In Due Course!

“Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee and just as hard to sleep after.” 

― Anne Morrow Lindbergh

They bonded over coffee and peanut butter smoothies, under the starlit nights, and over several texts and calls. They talked and laughed over copious amounts of coffee; he deciphered her silence like he knew the back of her hand. They both had interesting minds, and they spoke those minds to each other.

Even without any hint of pretence or trying to appear likable, they seemed to get along well. She took him to the places he has never been before; he told her the things she had never heard before. She always had a song playing in her hand for any situation; he had a logical statement for any situation.

Sometimes, she did not talk much; sometimes, he did not listen much. 

If he made an effort, it was misunderstood.

If she made an effort, it went unnoticed.
And if words were her forte, indifference was his.

The conversations were stimulating as ever, albeit, they dropped over time. 

"This won't work, you know?"

"Yes!"

They laughed over it, and pushed it aside like it never happened. Things changed, eventually. The bond faded, in due course.

Sooner or later, this was meant to happen, she said to herself.
It was all a fallacy, he said to himself.

The isolated coffee shop embraced her solitude, again.
Ironically, seclusion was just his wilderness.

When all was said and done, they moved on with their lives.

Things ended, even before they began.

To New Beginnings!

“Perhaps that is where our choice lies -- in determining how we will meet the inevitable end of things, and how we will greet each new beginning.” 
― Elana K. Arnold

I was having just one of those obnoxiously cheerful days. It was one of those days when I wanted to say, "These are the best days of our life," but I refrained from saying so.

I put my bag aside, and started playing Fruit Ninja in one of my teammate's phone. Yes, those were the days when I didn't own an Android phone. 

But when I got an Android phone, most of the real world problems began. For now, let us save that story for another day.

A notification on my desktop made me pause the game. It was a message from a fellow teammate:

"Your photograph is funnier than mine."

What started with a taunt on an Instant Messenger led to many emails, Facebook messages, text messages, and yes, I got a smartphone, and hence, WhatsApp and Viber were violated too. 

It was one of those beautiful new beginnings which leave you with a fragrance of deep longing and unknown euphoria. It was just one of those phases when life flips over, and falls into a bed of dandelion seeds giving you a feeling of grandiosity. It makes you feel richer than anyone; it makes you grin like a strange creature all the time.

It goes unsaid--all the good things must come to an end.

How else would you experience more good things? And if you don't experience the melancholic days (which will take their sweet time to heal), how will you appreciate the good ones that will follow?

Some beginnings come with an expiration date. 

It doesn't mean they were wrong; it doesn't mean they were awful. They just had to make their way for new beginnings. 

While you are wondering what to decipher from my midnight rant, I'd say, perk up your ears a little.

You'll never know which text in your inbox would be your new beginning, or a happy ending!

Finding Fanny!

Let me start this with a statutory warning. I am not really a review person. I love watching movies, I love reading books, but reviewing them is an eternally painful task for me. 

Reviews are always a spoiler alert. I never read them. I hate them.

This isn't exactly a review though. It is just an experience.

***

I called my friend on Wednesday to ask if she'd accompany me for watching this movie, of course, I have been waiting for it. In response, all she said was "Sure! But do you think it is a good idea?"

Nevertheless, we have booked the tickets. I was more excited with the prospect of meeting my friend after three long months. 

After lunching with my family on a sunny Sunday, my friend and I set out for this movie. Thank you, Hyderabad traffic, we missed the beginning.

Apparently, Ranvir Singh is in the movie, and we missed it. Sweet life! 

***

It is not everyday you walk out of the movie with a sense of happiness and bliss; it is not everyday you enjoy a movie thoroughly and the fact is we have enjoyed every second of it. I mean what else do you need from a movie? It has to make your weekend better, and give you a gooey, happy feeling just the way a chocolate chip ice-cream does.

Lost love, unrequited loss sure might be romantic and all that. But the presence of your loved one is an entirely different experience.

The characters of the movie are very simple; they are people like you and me, people looking for love, people living in nostalgia, people putting the happiness of others above theirs, people who we see often and relate to.

Deepika Padukone has a very soothing presence, and she is gorgeous, as usual. Arjun Kapoor is adorable. (For all those people who are rolling eyes at this - oh please, I am a girl, what else do you expect?) Needless to mention, it was utterly delightful to see Naseeruddin Shah on screen in a slightly different yet a sweet role.

***

Though I do not remember the last few lines of the movie by the narrator (Deepika Padukone, herself!), they were beautiful.

The movie was lucid, practical, funny, and beautiful. 

Goa, you are beautiful. Cannot wait to explore you more and more!

I Am A Snob. Not!

“I'm not a snob. Ask anybody. Well, anybody who matters.” 

― Simon Le Bon

My mind always runs in circles. I am glad it does. It keeps me occupied on days when I have utterly nothing to do.

This Saturday night, while I was talking to one of my friends, my mind was still running in circles, like one of those natural obligations, you know?

"You are not a snob. But you come across as one. You never keep yourself open to new people," he said. 

I tried to defend myself and all that, trying to throw some instances to prove I am not really an Ice Queen; much to my chagrin, I went ahead and called myself an extremely friendly person too.

Oops, I know I am not. I am not a people's person. 

"You could be hated for what you are not," he said. I wanted to act cool by quoting Eminem but I refrained from doing so, because such epic comebacks are always a fail with him.

The next morning, I asked another friend if these things were any true. He confirmed my worst fears. I come across as a snob. "You have that look on your face which makes people think you are not approachable." 

Looks like cockroaches are more approachable.

Anyway, whatever happened to people who are just reserved and want to do their work, and live a life without making any new friends? 

Is that a new definition of snob?

****

I could be in some serious trouble, I reckon. I mean let us just talk about my track record at making new friends. I haven't made many friends after graduation. 

Why don't I pause the flow of writing and count for a moment. I have made 3...4..friends after graduation?

Oh!

Looks like I am not keeping my options open. My friend said, "You never know who you'll meet." Of course, considering the fact that I am at my workplace all day long, the probability of making friends is highly unlikely even if I act like Joey Tribbiani.

This is not fair ya!

My friends could have instead said, I was short, which is partially true. Or they could have called my wardrobe a mourning one considering the fact that I dress black almost every day.(Oh don't even ask, it is a new fashion statement I have been trying to create.)

I would have thrown tantrums and gotten over it, you know? 

This "You should keep your avenues open" thing will never work with me, man. I have always been that person who absolutely loved doing things alone. SOMETIMES. A movie night or a binge sitcom watching noon. I have always been that person who preferred staying indoors over clubbing; always chose isolated coffee shops over noisy, crowded places; I've always been that person who got bored of people and things easily-so I choose wisely. 

I wish I could keep my avenues open, stop dodging calls, and respond to text messages instantly rather than writing nonsensical blog-posts like this, or posting pictures of a pair of shoes on Instagram. I really wish I could go out for a girls night out instead of staying in to watch House or Suits. I wish I could respond to all my emails on time, or make an effort to get out there and meet new people (Another concept that is entirely alien to me. I shudder at the thought of meeting new people.) and accommodate a little more space for the new-comers who might wreck my life for all I know.

Even worse, I might wreck theirs!

I wish I could have a control over my mood swings that visit me more often than my best friends do. 

I wish I could. But I cannot. So, let me make the most out of my solitude with Franz Kafka and romantic comedies.

If someone really wants to have me in their life, they will surely understand I have a twisted mind (in all dimensions) and act accordingly. I am not a friendly person, but I can bend my rules sometimes, for the few exceptionally chosen ones.

I can sense the effort, you know? 

So, get yourself right here with a tub of hazelnut ice-cream, and we'll watch House and have stimulating conversations. I am just an accidental snob!

What We Talk About When We Talk About Love: Book Review

“All this, all of this love we're talking about, it would just be a memory. Maybe not even a memory. Am I wrong? Am I way off base? Because I want you to set me straight if you think I'm wrong. I want to know. I mean, I don't know anything, and I'm the first one to admit it.” 

― Raymond Carver

I am really fed up. Fed up of these moronic hundred something fiction books, and the self-proclaimed Mythology books that butcher Mythology in many million ways. 

You might call me a mean person, but I had a tough time rummaging through book stores for decent Literature. (Of course, you always have the Classics and the Austen, but I was craving for a new writer.)

Like a spot of sunshine in dramatic moments, my brother sent me Raymond Carver's What We Talk About When We Talk About Love for my birthday. 

I have always wanted to read Raymond Carver but never got around to reading his books. Now that I have read two of his books, I absolutely love his work. 

What We Talk About When We Talk About Love is a collection of short stories. There is something utterly mysterious about these stories - stories that are poignant yet surreal. This collection is all about people without any education, logic or imagination whose lives revolve around depression, hatred, tender emotions, alcoholism, and love. 

And love is love, isn't it? Educated or not, imaginative or all, we all are intoxicated by that emotion that makes or breaks our world. 

The stories that were stuck in my head after reading are:

1. Everything Stuck to Him: Our parents always have a version of stories of our childhood. In this story, a father tells her young daughter how life was for everyone when she was a child.

2. Popular Mechanics: I could not stop imagining this story in my head. Bits and pieces, shreds and patches, this story left a huge impact on me for a day or two.

A couple has a conflict; the man packs his suitcase to leave; the woman swears and yells at him; and their baby is crying. They both want the baby and enter into a tug-of-war but the story ends with an ambiguity. The couple end up staying together.

It is a beautiful story and as you read it, you can vividly picture every scene in your mind.

But it is the final story that takes the hot cake. What We Talk About When We Talk About Love is the final story that talks about four friends who sit with around a bucket of ice with a bottle of gin inside it. They talk about love, and who doesn't want to know what we talk about when we talk about love?

This story (and the book) ends with these lovely lines that struck a chord with me:

"I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone's heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark."

It is strange how some books become an integral part of your life, the characters that haunt you, the stories that make you curious about the writer. This book will always remain as one of the best books I have read because I met this book as a dear friend when I was looking for a relief.

You can buy the book here:

• ISBN-10: 0679723056
• ISBN-13: 978-0679723059
• Paperback: 176 pages
• Publisher: Vintage; Vintage Books ed edition (18 June 1989)
• Buy it here: http://www.amazon.in/What-Talk-About-When-Love/dp/0679723056

The Great Indian Wedding Drama!

“Weddings are never about the bride and groom, weddings are public platforms for dysfunctional families.” 

― Lisa Kleypas, Blue-Eyed Devil

The wedding season is here - the warning sign for all the singles and the unmarried.

I have dreaded weddings ever since I was a child. The noise, the food served in the weddings (most of the times, it is bad), the nonsensical banter, the never-ending process of getting hitched, the sleepless nights, and the nights I suffer with sinusitis- things that I have always loathed.

As I grew older, my threshold for weddings and its noise has increased, I have started accepting the dire straits of attending one, but I admit, I only attend the weddings that mean a lot to me. I do not put on grumpy faces anymore, and much to my chagrin, I socialize without a frown. 

I am not that moody child anymore. I am a woman with terrible mood swings now. Yes, it does not help much with my family anyway.

It was my brother's wedding this week, and it was one of the much awaited weddings for all of us. And no, shopping is not the only reason for it. This boy was practically an important part of my childhood who suffered my evil schemes without complaining; pelting stones at him was fun and he put up with it; biting him and making him carry my shopping bags was one of the privileges he exercised. He was also my first cycling partner, and morning walk mate, and I looked forward to my summer vacations to meet my youngest uncle, my brother, and our dog. Gradually, we grew apart owing to our education and career choices.

I reckon, separation is a sign of growing up!

Like I said, this wedding was one of the much coveted ones. I met my cousins after three painful years, I spent some quality time with my grandparents, I looked forward to meet my whole family who were ignored in my quite rebellious times, and during holidays that I spent overloading myself with writing assignments. 

Ah, the joy of eating the food back home, and walking through the streets that were spent cycling in my childhood, the familiar smell of the mango trees in my grandparents' orchard!

All good things come along with bad things. When we talk about weddings, the bad things are always the distant relatives who pretend to shower SO much love on you that you actually want to faint.

It is that time of your life when you will face awkward situations like, "When do you intend to get married?" "We'll search a good boy for you", "My only remaining wish is to see you get married."

I mean, seriously, when will we ever stop doing this?

You wanted the man to get married, and finally, when he does, you ignore him throughout his wedding and focus on the unmarried ones.

No, you do not have to look for a good boy. (Define good boy. I beg to differ.) 

And no, some of us have a life. We live a life doing things for ourselves and not by craving a big fat wedding. 

Some of us are wired differently. But no surprises there, all the Indian weddings are just the same - a fleeting moment of blithe emotions for the reunion with your cousins, nonsensical banter, and random women (I cannot even recall them) who want you to see a good boy. And get married. Just get married. Without any second thoughts.

Sweet life!

Picture Courtesy: Indian wedding site.

Thank You For Stopping By: A Short Story

“There are moments when I wish I could roll back the clock and take all the sadness away, but I have the feeling that if I did, the joy would be gone as well.” 

― Nicholas Sparks, A Walk to Remember

It was really my fault. I have read too many fairy-tales to actually live and accept the realistic world anymore.

I could still picture that night in my head. I could feel it. Like it was happening in front of my very eyes, over and over again, tearing me apart.

He smelled of strong beer and his signature cologne--my favourite scent in the whole wide world.

As he stormed into our house, the gust of wind and heavy rain entered the house along with him. I rushed to sort the scattered papers and things in place. The wind was wild.

I looked up at him to notice that he was drenched. He did not move an inch, while I was having a tough time battling the papers against the wind. His bloodshot eyes showed no absolute hint of affection for me. I stood, looking at him, wondering what went wrong. Maybe, he is a little too drunk, I said to myself.

"We cannot do this anymore," he said, "I will move out this weekend." It was strange how he uttered those words without even looking at me, and without any iota of guilt in his voice. 

I did not see it coming. 

My three years of wedding fell apart. Life gave me a merciless surprise - a sucker punch that gave me miserable nights and dreadful mornings the following years.

It was that time in my life when I joined school again and was surviving on the funds I've saved earlier. I could not afford the rent had he left. I had loans to pay, and school fee had to be taken care of. I understood it was a wise option for me to walk out of our house, and go back to my parents'. But at that point of time, all I could think of was him! 

I could still imagine the number of questions that were playing a dirty game in my head. 

I could manage a feeble why. 

It was a mistake, he said. I cannot say anything else but sorry, he said.

"How could you do this to me?" I asked as I wept profusely.

"I love you, but we cannot do this," saying, he walked into the bedroom closing the door behind him. That night, he closed every door. He ended everything.

I never found a reason. I never got my closure. 

The weekend arrived with an endless promise of the seasonal torrential rains, and blocked roads. But I knew I had to leave. I packed my essentials, coffee maker, course books, and a box of photographs that were taken over several vacations, and of course, my wedding photographs where he and I were gushing over each other like mere teenagers.

What I left there weren't just memories, I left a part of myself there as I walked out of the apartment that day. I walked in along with him, but I left alone with perpetual distress.

Yet, I made him his favourite breakfast, had my last cup of coffee in the kitchen I loved, and left him a note that read:

Thank you for stopping by!